


Savor

by Sour_Idealist



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caduceus's ridiculous insight score, F/M, Feeding Kink, Kink Discovery, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 23:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16208120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sour_Idealist/pseuds/Sour_Idealist
Summary: No one appreciates Caduceus's food quite like Nott does.





	Savor

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober day five, feeding. Warnings for discussion of / speculation about hunger and food scarcity. 
> 
> Also, she has a nickname for him, and that's too cute not to use in dialogue, and we're all of us just going to have to live with the fact that that nickname is Deucy. 
> 
> The nice thing about D&D-campaign fic as opposed to many other traditional fantasy settings is that I don't feel obligated to research historical cooking methods.

No one appreciates Caduceus's food quite like Nott does.

Everyone _appreciates_ it, of course. It's not like the others are ungrateful. But for a few days, after they first got the _Mistake_ back and got themselves free of Avantica's island, the best that he could do was odds-and-ends Soup Surprise, and Nott still guzzled it down every night, smacking her lips and making odd satisfied little humming sounds between bites, hunched over her bowl in rhapsody. No one's ever done that for Caduceus's food before. He kind of likes it.

Some of it's probably because she starved pretty badly a few times. None of the others have mentioned it, so maybe they haven't noticed, but it seems pretty obvious to Caduceus. It's written all over her body, in the jut of her collarbones and the protruding bones of her wrists, the limp frailty of her hair. It's coming in thicker at the roots; if she let him run his fingers through her hair for a while he could probably find the point where she met Caleb, and maybe the rest of the group too. He doesn't think he's made a mark yet, on her hair or on her bones, but maybe in a few weeks he can get a little softness on her limbs, a little space between bones and skin.

He's been thinking about that a lot, while he's chopping up vegetables, stirring up stew. Just humming to himself in the _Mistake's_ galley, the image at the back of his mind: Nott with a little more weight on her, a little more comfort. Roundness in her wrists, hair growing thick, maybe a little plump around the waist. A steady thought. He's not sure why he keeps coming back to it yet. He'll give it time.

They got hold of some bacon, about a week ago. Caduceus doesn't really do bacon himself – only polite to let things return to the earth before you eat him, in his opinion, and his family line has never really digested meat well anyway – but he made bacon-and-egg omelets, and there was practically a riot in the galley. Beau snuck some of hers over to Yasha, Caleb actually put his book down to eat, and Nott almost stabbed Fjord when he tried to sneak some off her plate. But then she apologized, and held her plate out, shoulders hunched and smile nervous, baring all her ragged teeth.

Caduceus can't get it out of his head, not really. Fortunately all he's doing right now is stirring a really big stir-fry, and it's usually a good idea to have something else in the back of your head for that. It's got a while left to go.

He's seen Nott do that a lot, actually. Get all hunched and stabby over her food (his food), and then offer it up, easy like she'd always meant to do it. No one's ever gotten violent over his food before, and it's flattering, but the second part still feels important. Definitely part of why he keeps coming back to the memory. Also, the stir-fry could use another shake of pepper.

Nott hasn't really stopped trying to bind them all together. And she's been doubling down on him in particular. Practically tripping over herself trying to make sure he belongs. No one's made that kind of fuss over him before either. He doesn't really need it, but it's nice to be appreciated.

She hasn't had an easy time of it, Nott hasn't. (No one on this ship has). He doesn't have her nailed down yet, but that's pretty clear. That can make people bitter. Not their Nott. She's a lot of things, but never that.

He adds a little more olive oil to the stir-fry, .

 _A new chapter_ , she said. A new start. They're a second chance for her, then, and she's trying to make something good out of it. Trying hard.

Maybe she's trying to grow flowers out of a really messy grave.

“Oh, hey Deucy!”

She's also the only one on the ship who can sneak up on him.

“Oh, hi,” he says, turning around. “I was just thinking about you.”

“You were?” She blinks up at him. “Why?”

He shrugs. “You're interesting.” He leans one elbow on the counter. The stir-fry is starting to smell good. (Technically speaking, it's two stir-fries, one with a bunch of fish and meat tossed in, but he's been stirring them both at the same time, just cooking the meat parts a bit before he mixed it all in with the rest.)

“Oh, no, I'm pretty boring,” Nott says, leaning against the cabinet door. She barely comes up to his hip, and that interests him too. He didn't see a lot of halfings in Shady Creek Run, or gnomes, and she's a little smaller even than them. She reminds him of ferrets, small and quick and deadly. Also clever. Also pretty cute. “So, how's it going in the galley? You know, we all really appreciate having you cook for us. It's like a family dinner, isn't it?” She practically leans up on tiptoe, beaming up at him.

“Kind of, I guess,” he says, and glances down at the frying pan. “Here, you might like this, tell me how this tastes.” There's a fork by his left hand, each rock of the ship rolling it against the raised lip of the counter. He grabs it now, spears a selection of vegetables and fish. “Here you go.” He could just hand her the fork; he holds it down to her instead.

It's like watching the beetles when they're really hungry. One second he's got slivers of red and green and white lined up on the skewer; then there's a green blur and the fork is empty, and Nott is swallowing. “Mmm, delicious,” she says. “You always cook so well, Deucy.”

“You know you don't have to call me that,” he says, but it's pretty clear that's not going to work and he's just going to have to live with it. “You should eat slower,” he says instead. “Really take the time to taste it. Here, try again.” He loads the fork up a little more, this time, and holds it down to her. She steadies it, her fingers brushing against his on the handle, and leans in. Licks her lips and bites.

“Mmm!” It's a low hum, at first; then she glances up and makes the same noise louder, obvious and showy. He thinks about telling her that he heard the first one, but it's sweet that she wants to make sure. He can actually see her chew, this time, rolling the flavor through her mouth. Her eyes, lashless, flutter closed. She hums again. Her tongue chases over her black-leather lips, catching drops of sauce. Her lips smack. Her eyes open.

Caduceus is hard. Huh. That's interesting. He'll have to think about that.

“Want another bite?” he asks.

“Absolutely,” she says, and opens her mouth for him again. She swallows this one slowly too, taking her time. So he gives her another, just because, and he's _really_ definitely hard now. That's... yeah, that's new. He might do some thinking about this in private.

“You should probably get people down for dinner,” he says. His voice sounds all right, he's pretty sure. That's a relief. “Tell them it's ready.”

“Caduceus, you've outdone yourself,” she promises him, patting him on the arm as she goes. She doesn't touch his fur at all, and his skin still kind of tingles where she touched it. Huh.

He definitely wants to feed her more. He wants to make her hum like that, and lick her fingers. Wouldn't mind feeding her up, either. Seeing safety, prosperity even, in the shape of her body over her bones.

Huh.

 


End file.
